


Wrong Number

by Geekygirl24



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jim is a Little Shit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 21:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17588318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekygirl24/pseuds/Geekygirl24
Summary: How did Sebastian and Jim meet?





	Wrong Number

It was nearly three in the morning when Sebastian stumbled out of the bar, his vision blurred and his speech slurred.

 

So sue him.

 

Dishonourably discharged with no other proper qualifications to his name…. all for punching a superior officer… multiple times…. In the face.

 

The bastard deserved it.

 

And then he realised that he was completely lost…. You go away for a few years and they change everything. Patting his pockets, he searched for his phone.

 

Gone… Fuck.

 

Finding his wallet instead, he shuffled over to the nearby phone box, hoping that this wasn’t one of the crap ones that were just used to attract tourists. If it didn’t work, he was actually going to lose his shit.

 

Thankful that he had the number of an old Captain of his memorised, he dialled it in.

 

“Hey, it’s…. Seb…” he slurred into the phone as soon as someone picked up, “Come pick me up will ya? I’m outside… some shitty bar with a fox on the sign.”

 

“…. Who is this? How did you get this number?”

 

“Fuck, it’s not a fucking fox… I don’t know where the fuck I am, but just come and get me.”

 

The person on the other end of the line didn’t reply immediately before saying, in a low and quite dangerous tone (with just the hint of an Irish accent, his drunk mind pointed out), “I think you have the wrong number.”

 

Seb just groaned, “Fuck off and stop being funny, I’m calling from a fucking phone box. Fuck knows where my phone’s gone.”

 

Another brief silence.

 

“Okay…” the voice sounded a lot friendlier now, “… I’ll be there soon.”

 

Hanging up the phone with another load groan, Seb stumbled out and slid down to the slightly damp ground. His head was spinning and throbbing at the same time, and his feet felt like rubber.

 

Twenty minutes later, a very expensive looking car slowed down across the street and a dark-haired, slim man emerged from the backseat, dressed in an equally as expensive looking suit.

 

He made his way over and Seb couldn’t help but scan him up and down in drunken appreciation, a smirk on his face as the man stopped less than an inch away from his foot.

 

“Fuck…” he mumbled, “…. You’re gorgeous.”

 

The man smiled faintly, although he did look slightly exasperated at Seb’s condition. “Come on…” he lightly kicked Seb’s foot, “… you wanted a ride didn’t you?”

 

“…. You’re not the Captain?”

 

The man looked up to the sky, muttering something about “simple minds”, before turning his attention back to Seb. “Well done… you called me, so get in the car.”

 

Seb’s frown deepened, but followed the man anyway and climbed into the back seat with him, “So… you got up in the middle of the night and came all the way here to give a stranger a ride home?”

 

“Thankfully, you caught me coming out of a meeting…” the man waved to the unseen driver, prompting him to start the engine and drive away from the club, “… and you intrigue me Colonel Sebastian Moran.”

 

Sebastian’s eyelids were heavy, and his mouth was dry, “How did you- “ He stopped before he could finish the sentence…. This car seat was remarkably comfortable. He drifted off before finishing the sentence… or before he could even give the man his address.

 

………………………………………………………………………………….

 

He woke up twelve hours later, lying on a strange bed in a strange room. He back was sore from having clearly just been dumped there, and his head hurt even worse than it did the night before.

 

“Morning.” A voice said from somewhere behind him, clearly amused by the sight.

 

Old army instincts kicking in, Sebastian jumped to his feet and spun around to face the figure sitting on the sofa, frowning as the man wiggled his fingers at him.

 

“Where the hell am i?” 

 

“You know, for a soldier, I figured you’d be better trained in being aware of your location… I’m so disappointed Sebby.”

 

Sebastian frowned, his entire body tensing up as he went into fight-or-flight mode, “Who the fuck are you?” 

 

Maybe that will a little aggressive, but at this moment in time, he couldn’t give a flying shit.

 

“Hmmmm…. You can call me Moriarty.” He stalked forwards, one hand reaching up to tug playfully on Seb’s dog tags, “Still so loyal to them? After everything they put you through?”

 

Seb resisted the urge to grimace, not wanting to give this… Moriarty the satisfaction. “It’s Sebastian…. Not Sebby.”

 

“What? No thank you for giving you a nice place to sleep for the night…” Moriarty smirked, “… I’ll even throw in a mug of coffee if you want? Some aspirin?”

 

Seb scowled, torn between punching the annoying twerp in the face and wanting to satisfy his hunger and get rid of the hangover as quickly as possible.

 

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport Sebby…” Moriarty pouted, a small smirk on his face, before he snapped his fingers.

 

Almost immediately, a clearly terrified minion burst through the door, carefully handing Seb a mug of hot coffee.

 

Taking a sip of the coffee (trying not to comment on how Moriarty could possibly know how he took his coffee), Seb sighed slightly in relief, before turning his attention back to the annoying (hot as hell) man.

 

“You know… I could kill you with my pinky.” 

 

Moriarty cackled at this, “You can’t even walk straight right now!” He stepped closer, almost chest-to-chest with ex-soldier, “Besides… If anyone is in danger right now, it’s you Sebby.”

 

Grunting both in agreement and in annoyance at himself for getting so drunk, and being so vulnerable, Seb frowned.

 

He saw how scared the coffee man was… was this small man really so terrifying?

 

“Drink up Sebby, we have a lot of work to do!”

 

“…. We do?”

 

Moriarty gave him a patronising look, “Of course? You didn’t think my help last night was for free, right? In exchange for literally dragging you out of the gutter… you now work for me.”

 

“And what the hell do you do?”

 

“Consider me a- “Moriarty shrugged, “- freelance criminal. One who needs a sniper with the exact credentials that you have.”

 

“… You want me to kill people.”

 

“If they upset me, yes…. And even if they don’t, yes.”

 

Sebastian gave it a little thought, but nodding. “Sure. Why not.”

 

“I would have had you killed if you’d said no?”

 

This was either the worst mistake of his life… or the best.


End file.
